


Memento Mori

by ivanna



Series: Carpe Diem [4]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:02:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanna/pseuds/ivanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris put his life in danger and Vin learned the truth about his past. Sequel to 'Contra Spem Spero'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memento Mori

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Farad for beta reading.

Vin was sitting at his desk in Team 7's bullpen and staring at the monitor of his PC. But not one thought in his head was about the case Team 7 was working on. Vin knew that he should concentrate on it but he couldn’t stop thinking about Chris. 

Something was wrong with Chris. He had distanced himself from people in the last few days. And from Vin too. But Vin felt that it wasn't because of their relationship. Chris needed to be alone and maybe it was a good thing because Vin needed it, too. Vin used the time spent alone to sort his feelings. Chris used that time for drinking. Good old-fashioned drinking in the quiet of his ranch. And again Vin felt that it wasn't because of Chris' old habit as the gossips said. Something was gnawing at Chris. Vin was torn between respect for Chris' privacy and concern for him. ‘Maybe I should ask Buck,’ Vin thought and pondered it a bit. He felt awkward talking about Chris with Buck – well, he felt awkward talking about Chris with everybody. But Chris’ oldest friend could answer Vin’s questions. Vin looked at Buck who was sitting at his desk. Today he was unusually quiet, he didn’t take part in a common chatter and didn’t tease JD. Vin wondered about it but his thoughts were interrupted by Chris who came out of his office, holding the case with Vin’s rifle in his hand. Something was wrong and this time ‘wrong’ meant very big and very real trouble. 

“I just got a call from the DPD,” Chris said. His voice was cold, his face stern. “A stoned bitch got the AK, kidnapped a child and threatens to shoot him if her boyfriend is not released from prison. We got him in December, the Carson case. C’mon, boys, Travis authorized it, the DPD will give us the gear, we have no time to get our own.”

Team 7 got up and followed Chris to an elevator. Vin caught up with Chris and took the case from his hand. Chris knew that Vin could borrow any equipment but not a weapon when somebody’s life depended on his shot. 

They quickly got to the scene of the crime. A police officer met them and gave them the picture: the neighborhood was secure, roads blocked, streets cleared but the police were afraid to make a move against the mad woman. She was standing by a wall, an overhang covered her from above. The nine-year-old boy was standing in front of her, the muzzle of the AK was pressed to him.

“We're afraid to shoot; even if we hit her, if the shot's not perfect, she can still pull the trigger convulsively,” the officer said. “And she is so stoned that we can’t wait until her arm gets tired. She feels nothing. The only hope we have is for you to negotiate with her, Senior Agent.”

Chris didn’t think negotiation would help. Her mind was as numb as her body. They needed some sort of a distraction. Something that would make her take AK's muzzle away from the boy. Chris came in as close as possible to the woman and examined the rifle. It wasn’t the classic AK-47 or the AKM; this was a light model AK-74, made in 80’s, with the small intermediate cartridge 5.45mm instead of 7.62mm. The plan materialized in Chris’ head. He came back and told it to Team 7.

“You can't do it,” Vin said, his voice was hard as steel. 

Buck wanted to say the same thing but he knew that objections were useless. God only knew how many times he had tried to stop Chris in the past. And because of his experience, he knew that nothing could change Chris’ mind. Even if all of Team 7 tried. Even if Vin tried. 

Chris’ plan was very simple – Chris, in Kevlar, would go to the woman and provoke her to fire on him. When she took the AK's muzzle off the boy's head, Vin, with his rifle, would take her down. 

“It’ll take two seconds,” Vin said. “Do you know how many times she can shoot you in those seconds? Damn, even one shot in the head is enough. Even one shot in Kevlar is enough if…”

“The cartridge 5.45mm isn’t piercing, you know that,” Chris interrupted him. “The accuracy of the AK is very bad. Also her hands are shaking so badly that she probably won't hit me at all.”

“It’s suicide, Chris,” Vin wouldn't give up.

“Vin is right, Chris,” Buck said quietly. “For once, listen to what others say.”

Chris didn’t answer them. He looked at Team 7 and ordered, “Nathan, Ezra, be ready to catch the boy. JD, get the wire and Kevlar from the DPD. And I need a sweater to hide the Kevlar.”

It was May and the day was hot, all the agents wore short-sleeved shirts. Except cold-blooded Vin who wore a huge shapeless blue sweater. Chris held out his hand and ordered, “Vin.”

Vin silently took off his sweater and handed it to Chris. Somebody gave him the windcheater and Vin automatically pulled it over his t-shirt. Kneeling he opened the case and started to assemble his rifle. He hated to do it but he had no choice. He had his orders. When his rifle was ready, Vin looked around. Chris pointed to where he would stand and Vin quickly figured out the best place for making his shot. He had to take a stand on the roof of the corner building. 

JD came back with equipment. Vin took the wire and his rifle and went to the fire escape of the building. Chris didn't look at him. He put on the police Kevlar vest and hid it under the sweater that still held the heat of Vin's body. He fit the headset and checked communication. Five minutes later he heard Vin's hoarse voice saying, "I'm ready."

Chris took a deep breath and went to the police cordon. 

"This is Senior Agent Larabee," he shouted to the woman. "I arrested your boyfriend. I'm coming."

He crossed the cordon and took a few steps toward the woman. His hand clenched the butt of his 'Beretta'. 

"Stop!" The woman screeched. "Don't move! Drop the gun!"

"Let go of the boy."

"Drop the gun!"

"Okay."

Chris knew when the 'Beretta' hit the ground, the bitch would open fire. And he knew that Vin was right. Even if bullets didn't penetrate the Kevlar, they could hurt him pretty bad. Or hit the unprotected parts of his body. Or simply hit his head and put an end to his pathetic, miserable existence. But he wasn't in misery anymore, he was well, he wanted to live. How ironic it would be, if his life ended now, when he finally felt alive again. But he had no choice.

Chris chased away the unwelcome thoughts. He slowly put his gun on the ground and raised his hands. His body was tense, he was ready for what came next. 

"Bastard!" The woman spat and pulled the trigger. 

Bullets knocked the air out of his lungs, knocked him down. His chest, his side, his chest again… He fell on the pavement but didn't feel its hardness. His vision was blurred as well as his mind but through the buzzing in his ears, he heard the boy's cry, Buck's orders and Vin's curses. He realized that he heard voices but not shots. Then he felt the asphalt scratch his cheek. He moved his arm to push himself off the hard surface. His arm didn't want to obey. He looked at it and was surprised to see that the sleeve of Vin's blue sweater was red. Then he felt somebody's hands turn him, lift him and put him on a stretcher. An oxygen mask covered his face, and the voices around became one continuous roar. He tried to take off the mask, to say something, to give orders, to listen to reports but he wasn't allowed. The stretcher was shoved into an ambulance. Before the door of the ambulance closed, his vision cleared and he saw Vin standing nearby. Vin didn't come to him, he wasn't going to go to the hospital, he just stood motionless and his blue eyes were glassy with tears. 

7777777

Vin wiped off his face. He knew his friends would notice his tears no matter how hard he tried to hide them but at least he could save face in front of bystanders. All of a sudden this place was filled with people. Vin watched as Chris was treated by paramedics and placed in an ambulance but Vin didn't approach him. He couldn't. Over and over, he relived the events of the last minutes. 

He saw clearly the bitch through the scope of his rifle. He didn’t take his eyes off her but he knew exactly when Chris came to her. When Chris put down his gun. When the bitch opened fire on him. Two seconds passed between the moment when the bitch took the muzzle off the boy’s head and Vin’s shot. His calculation was correct. He couldn’t shoot faster – he had only one chance and he had to be sure that his shot would be fatal. He couldn’t shoot faster and every split second he knew that Chris could die because of his slowness. When the bitch fell down with a bloody mess where her face used to be, Vin turned the scope to where Chris had been standing. But Chris wasn't standing there. He was lying face down on the pavement, completely still. Then his arm stirred. One bloody arm, wearing Vin's sweater, a gap in the sleeve that looked more like it had been slashed with a knife than a bullet. Vin couldn’t tear his eyes away from that arm. Then Chris was surrounded by people. Vin got up and slowly made his way off the roof and down to the ground. The weight of his rifle was unbearable.

Vin shuddered and came back to reality when he felt Josiah’s hand heavy on his shoulder. 

“Are you all right, son?” Josiah asked.

“Yes.”

“He'll be fine. A couple of broken or cracked ribs, severe bruises, but only one bullet scratched his arm.”

Vin said nothing. Josiah waited a bit, staring at him, then added, “If you want to talk, I'm always around.”

Vin nodded, freed himself and went away. He didn’t want to talk.

His teammates glanced at him but no one seemed surprised that he didn't go to the hospital with Chris. Buck went there. Vin went back to the office along with the rest of Team 7. He typed his report without paying any attention to grammatical errors. He handed it to Josiah, along with the case with his rifle and said that he was going home and taking the day off tomorrow. He wasn’t allowed to work after the fatal shot, anyway, not until the investigation was concluded. 

7777777

Chris was lucky. Everybody around told him that. He had two cracked ribs, bruises on his chest and his side and a scratch on his left bicep. All these injuries hurt terribly and would hamper his movements for a couple of weeks but nothing more. The doctor even didn’t leave him overnight in the hospital, and Buck took him to the ranch. 

 

Buck helped Chris sit on the couch and put a pillow under his uninjured side, then placed painkillers and a glass of water on the coffee table near Chris. Chris was silent and Buck said nothing either. Finally Chris looked up at him and asked, “You understand, don't you?”

Buck nodded and sat in the chair.

“I was with you back then,” he said. 

“But Vin doesn’t understand.” 

Buck couldn’t make out what was in Chris’s tone - resentment, frustration, sadness… or maybe all of them together. He sighed and said, “Chris, think about what Junior had to go through today. He has a right to be angry. And he doesn’t know…”

They grew quiet again. Then Chris asked, “Did you talk to him?”

“No. I rode after the ambulance.” 

“Give me my cell.”

Buck dumped the things that he was given in the hospital on the coffee table and found Chris' cell among them. He handed it to Chris. Chris dialed Vin’s number. Long beeps answered him. He dialed it again and got the same. Chris threw the cell on the couch.

“Doesn’t answer,” he stated the obvious.

'Not surprising,' Buck thought but didn't say it aloud. 

Chris reached out his hand and demanded, “Give me your cell.”

Buck obeyed. Chris dialed Vin’s number and again, it was ineffectual. Chris gave up. He dropped his head back on the couch and closed his eyes tiredly. “Go home,” he whispered.

“I'll stay with you.”

"No. I want to be alone.”

Buck hesitated and looked at him. Chris seemed calm and sane. And objecting to Chris when he made up his mind was dangerous, and dangerous primarily for Chris himself. Buck took his cell and got up.

“Okay. Call me if you need something.”

“Thank you. For everything.”

“That’s what the friends are for.” Buck squeezed Chris’ shoulder and left. 

Chris reclined on the couch. His whole body ached. And not just his body. The pain lingered much deeper than muscles and bones, it was much deeper than flesh. His soul, his heart, his mind were in agony. The silence in the house increased his torment, and Chris couldn’t bear it anymore. Somehow he got up from the couch, stumbled to the bar and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. Pressing his free hand to his injured ribs and moaning at every step, he went back to the couch and sat down heavily. He knew that drugs given to him in the hospital remained in his blood and drinking alcohol now was the top of idiocy but he didn’t care. He wanted to drown out that agony. He raised the bottle to his lips and took a swig. Whiskey burned his throat and settled in his stomach. He took another swig. 

He drank until the agony became a dull aching pain that numbed his thoughts and feelings. He picked up his cell and dialed Vin’s number. He listened to the series of long beeps and then pressed the call button again with a drunken insistence. Then did it again. And again. And he almost dropped his cell in surprise when Vin took his call. 

7777777

Vin was lying on his stomach on the couch in his apartment, and he winced with every ring of his cell. Finally it stopped ringing and Vin returned to his thoughts. Although thinking was the last thing he wanted to do. Why did Chris do that? Did he understand what he meant to Vin? Did he understand how important their relationship was? Or did it mean nothing to Chris? *He* meant nothing to Chris? The cell rang again and Vin almost jumped. This time it rang incessantly and Vin couldn't bear it anymore. He knew the rules required that he was constantly in touch, but the rules could go to hell. Larabee had no problem sending them there. Vin reached his hand and took up his cell, intending to switch it off. But against his will, his finger hit the green button. 

"Vin?" he heard. 

Chris' voice was strange and indistinct. Vin put his cell to his ear and answered, "Yeah."

“We need to talk.”

“I’m listening.”

A muffled curse wafted to Vin. 

“Not like this. I need to see you.”

Vin paused. “Okay.” 

“I… I can’t ride to you.”

Vin laughed bitterly. “A chicken shit couple of broken ribs stops you?"

“The RAM is in the city and Buck already left.”

Vin paused again. “Okay. I’ll come to the ranch.”

7777777

The road to the ranch took 40 minutes. All those 40 minutes, Vin’s anger grew and he even didn’t try to restrain it. When he got to the ranch, he was blinded by rage. 

Vin entered the house and headed to the den. Chris was sitting on the couch – the same couch on which they had spent so many hours of silent affinity and wild passion. Chris’ face was pale, he looked more like a ghost than a living person. And he was drunk. The half-empty bottle of whiskey stood in front of him on the coffee table. It was the last straw for Vin. Blood rushed to his head. He wanted to pull out his SIG and aim it at Chris despite all rules. 

“You want to die, don’t you?” he yelled. “Do you want to get a bullet in your head? Maybe I should shoot you myself?"

Chris laughed. It was an eerie laugh, it stirred the hair on the back of Vin’s neck. 

“You can’t do it,” Chris said.

Yes, he could never hurt Chris. Chris knew it and Vin knew it too. They stared at each other, separated by a few steps and a bottomless abyss. 

“I don’t want to die,” Chris said finally. “Not anymore.”

Vin froze.

“But this boy today,” Chris continued, “I had to save him. Even at the cost of my life. I had to do it for him. I owe him.”

“Who?” Vin whispered.

“Adam.”

His son. Oh Lord. 

“They died because of me. Sarah and Adam. They took my vehicle. Someone put an explosive in it. Someone wanted to get me. The vehicle exploded and they were inside. They died, Vin.”

Unbearable pain filled Chris' eyes. Pain and guilt. It was the scariest thing Vin had ever seen. 

“Today is three years since it happened. I haven't been alive since then. I don’t remember how many times I woke in the night, took my gun and put its muzzle in my mouth, intending to put an end to this parody of existence. I don’t know what stopped me. I left the Police because I deliberately jumped into fire. Buck tried to stop me and I left him too. I ran far away from Virginia, from my former life, from the memories but they followed me. Sometimes I thought that I would never get rid of the smell of burning flesh. Sarah and Adam were everything in my life. I didn’t believe I could live without them.”

Every word stabbed Vin like a knife. Chris's eyes didn’t let him go and he drowned in their pain. Then a glimmer of light shone in their green depths.

“But then I met you and everything changed. I realized that I wanted to live. I didn't have the strength to go on but you gave that to me. Still giving. You make me breathe, Vin."

Chris got up and took a step toward Vin. The injuries and whiskey mixed with the drugs wore him out and Chris staggered. Vin immediately was there, his strong hands caught Chris' tortured body and put him back on the couch. The tears streamed down Chris' pale cheeks. Vin sat down on the couch and embraced Chris. He ran his hands up and down Chris' back, gently rocked him, pressed Chris' head to his shoulder, stroked his blond hair. Chris clung to him and cried out his soul. 

"But I'm tired, Vin. I'm so tired," he muttered between the sobs. 

Finally the sobs subsided and Chris fell asleep. Vin was sitting motionless, holding Chris in his arms. The hours passed but Chris' confession still sounded in his head. His heart ached with pain for Chris. And for himself too. Tonight he realized that Chris never would belong to him completely. He could fight for Chris with the living but not with the dead. The part of Chris' heart always would be with Sarah.

Vin felt as an icy hand of fear squeeze him inside. Chris balanced on the edge of sanity and could fall into the abyss at any moment. And if it happened, he would take Vin down with him. Because Vin was clearly aware that Chris Larabee imprisoned his heart until Vin's hour of death and beyond. 

7777777

Chris woke and couldn't figure out where he was and what had happened. The surface on which he was lying was both hard and soft. And warm. Chris opened his eyes and blinked. He was in his den in his ranch house. He raised his head and saw that he was lying on Vin's chest. Vin slept sitting up and holding Chris in his arms. 

The movement woke Vin. He turned his head and moaned when his stiff neck muscles protested. He looked at Chris and saw that Chris eyed him. Vin smiled and drawled, "Hi, Cowboy."

"Hi," Chris smiled back.

He stirred but quickly stilled when his injuries awoke, too. 

"Easy, Cowboy."

Vin slipped out from under Chris and helped him to get up. Moaning and groaning, they embraced each other and wandered toward the bedroom. Chris chuckled, "A nice couple. Two wrecks."

"Speak for yourself."

In the bedroom Vin helped Chris to strip off and lie down on the bed. Vin gritted his teeth at the sight of the purple-black bruises which were even more noticeable in contrast with the white elastic bandage that wrapped Chris' injured ribs tightly. But Vin said nothing. He lay on the bed beside Chris and pulled his cell out of his jeans' pocket. Chris raised his eyebrow questioningly. 

"Buck. To say he doesn't need to ride here tomorrow morning." 

"Will you stay?"

"Yes. I have nothing to do at work until the investigation concludes." 

"Recon I'll get a reprimand." Chris sounded indifferent.

"Uhu. Along with the regular fucking commendation." 

Chris chuckled and asked, "What time is it?"

Vin looked at the watch on his wrist. "Almost midnight."

"Buck will be very happy that you're calling now."

"It's revenge for his stories." 

Vin dialed Buck's number and after the twentieth beep, his sleepy voice roared in Vin's ear, "Wilmington!"

Vin moved the cell away from his ear and said, "Hi, Bucklin."

"Vin? What's up?" 

"Nothing, I just want to save you a trip to the ranch. I'm at Chris'." 

"How is he?"

"Better now. Bye."

Vin ended the call and put the cell on the nightstand. The SIG followed the cell. Vin quickly stripped off his clothes and dumped them in a heap beside the bed, then turned to Chris and asked, "What's the best way for you to sleep?"

Chris turned on his uninjured side and pulled Vin's arm, pressing Vin's chest to his back. Vin gently put his hand on Chris' hip, buried his nose in soft blond hair, and they fell asleep. 

7777777

Vin woke early as usual and slipped out of bed carefully, trying not to disturb Chris. He made coffee, cooked a simple breakfast and went to the barn. He spent the morning tending the horses and talking to Peso. When he came back to the house, Chris was still asleep. The phone rang and Vin quickly picked it up. 

"Tanner."

"Mr. Tanner, this is Mr. Standish. Please excuse me for disturbing your privacy but…" Ezra paused and suddenly blurted straight, "How are you, Vin?"

Vin didn't answer.

"Vin?" 

"You know, Ez," Vin said finally. "Now I realize what you meant when you came to my place a couple of months ago and told me about Chris."

"Well… I feel for you, Vin."

"Uhu."

"How is Chris?"

"Bad. I don't know what I should do to help him."

"Just be close. He needs you."

"Okay."

Vin hung up the phone but in the next second it rang again. This time it was Buck who said the investigation was scheduled for tomorrow and inquired about the situation at the ranch. Vin briefly answered him and ended the call when he heard movement in the bedroom. He quickly went in.

"They have decided that this is the fucking call office," he said, entering the bedroom. "Did the phone wake you?"

"It's time to get up, anyway," Chris answered and pointed at the clock. "Almost 11 a.m." He was sitting on the bed trying to unwind the bandages. 

Vin gave him a look and commented, "You look like a mummy."

"Shut up, Tanner. Better help me."

"You're so charming," Vin chuckled and the familiar lop-sided grin curled his lips. 

He moved close to Chris and deftly unwrapped the bandages from Chris' chest, then he took off the bandages from Chris' arm and examined the wound. 

"I want to take a shower," Chris said.

"Are you sure it's a good idea?" 

"Yeah. That wound is just a scratch. Hot water will help my muscles."

Vin wasn't convinced. 

"If you're going to call Nathan and ask his advice, I'll shoot you."

Vin chuckled again. "Okay. C'mon."

He helped Chris to get up and took him to the bathroom, then left him alone. When Chris finished his tasks, Vin escorted him back to the bedroom and sat him down on the bed. Vin knelt in front of Chris, took his hands and put them on his shoulders knowing from his own experience how painful it was to raise one's arms with injured ribs. He took the elastic bandage and tightly wrapped Chris' ribs, then he treated the wound on Chris' arm, using the supplies that Buck had brought from the hospital yesterday. When the bandaging was done, Vin helped Chris put on sweats and a t-shirt. 

"Breakfast?" he asked.

Chris shook his head.

"No."

"You need to eat, drugs are pretty bad on an empty stomach."

"Don't want drugs either."

"Suit yourself."

"Help me get to the deck."

"Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Yeah, I feel almost fine after the shower."

"Okay."

Vin helped Chris get up and led him out of the house. The day was clear and hot. Sunlight flooded across the grass on the plain and the pine trees on the slopes of the mountains, the sky was bright blue without a single cloud, and the breeze was filled with the smell of wild flowers. The spring sun and fresh air brought a bit of color back to Chris' pale face. Yesterday's events seemed like a nightmare to Vin. But he knew it was real. 

7777777

Vin woke in the middle of the night in an empty bed. Dim moonlight illuminated the room and outlined Chris who was standing at the window, looking outside. 

"Why aren't you sleeping?" Vin asked.

"I saw Sarah in my dream," Chris said quietly.

"And then you woke and saw me in your bed?" Vin's voice was devoid of any emotion.

"Yes."

Vin turned away and closed his eyes. And prayed to get the strength not to scream aloud.

_The next part is "Abiens, Abi"_


End file.
